Sex and the City: The Reckoning
by pen15mightier
Summary: I couldn't help but wonder what Carrie and friends were up to after the apocalypse...


Carrie Bradshaw awoke with a start, leaping up wildly from beneath the dirty pile of rags that she used as a bed like a zombie bursting from beneath its cold grave into the silver moonlight. She had the dreams almost every time she drifted off to sleep, but as usual this one was already long forgotten. She guessed that they might be about the old days, when she wasn't so cold and so alone in the once majestic city that time had now forgotten.

She took a deep breath, counted, then let it out.

Her mind drifted back to the warm embraces of her husband, known to her as Mr. Big, but then to the world as Commander John Preston once he was drafted off to fight in the Great Spice Wars. They had written each other for a few months until he stopped returning her letters. She didn't know what happened, but she never gave up hope and continued writing, keeping her declarations of love in an old and faded Manolo Blahnik box that she kept next to her makeshift bed. The plastic garbage bags snugly rubber-banded around her left foot and worn tennis shoe that was two sizes too big on her right were a far cry from the lavish things she was once obsessed with wearing.  
When she thought about it now, it seemed ridiculous to even think about things like shoes, it almost felt as if she were thinking about a different person entirely.

The stabbing pain she suddenly felt in her stomach brought her wandering thoughts crashing back to reality. She tried to remember the last time she had eaten. It must have been days. Her short supply of canned beans had nearly run out and her last plastic bottle of dirty water was quickly being drained. If only she could drink a cosmo right now, maybe all of this would go away.

Her thoughts again wandered to her old life, her old friends, and along with the warm feelings that gave her, the despair floated just below the surface.

Almost nine tenths of the population had died when things got bad. Cannibalism was rampant in more recent years when food became far more than scarce, and it had cost Carrie two of her best friends when Charlotte, fearing for her survival, killed Miranda's son, Brady, and ate him in a last ditch effort for survival. Then Miranda, whose mind had spiraled into insanity at the loss of her son, murdered Charlotte, cut her open, and began to eat her insides while rambling something about looking for her son. She disappeared from the decimated city soon after that and was never heard from again.

Carrie couldn't help but wonder if Miranda had managed to join some band of survivors outside of the city, or if she had just wandered off into the ashes to die alone.

Samantha and Carrie had grown intimate after this and carried on a relationship that lasted until Samantha's life of promiscuity got the best of her and she died a slow and painful death due to untreated Syphilis. The last time Carrie had seen her, a few days before her death, Samantha was missing her nose, an ear, and most of her fingers.

Carrie's thoughts snapped back to her rapidly approaching food crisis. She had been living down in what used to be the subway station at Lexington Avenue and East 77th, near where her former apartment had been. She had only strayed from the area to gather food, but usually stayed inside fearing the dangers that lurked in the mostly empty city. But now she had no choice. She had to leave. She had to survive.

Maybe somewhere, there was a place that was still green, where the sun still shined and the scent of cherry blossoms was carried in the soft arms of the wind. Where people lived blissfully ignorant of the terrible things that had happened during the past few years and lived normal happy lives. But not here.

Carrie took the remaining inventory of her belongings, the 2 cans of food, dirty water, dull butter knife that was her only form of protection, and the shoe box full of letters, and stuffed them into the olive drab backpack that she normally used as a pillow. She took one last look at the small area that had been her home for almost two years, and began walking toward the stairs.

As she started walking up them, she felt the aches and pains in her legs that came with being in her early fifties, and dreaded the events that lay before her. She ignored these things for now and kept walking towards the square of light at the top of the stairs.  
When she reached the top step she paused, standing in the gaping mouth of the subway station, and let her eyes adjust to the light. She gazed out into the city and saw the all too familiar ash hanging silently in the air among the buildings, once mighty giants that had been brought to their knees. It was around midmorning now. That would give her enough time to travel south, at least to midtown, before it got dark. It was going to be a long journey.

She reached down, grabbed the old scarf that hung loosely around her neck and wrapped it around her mouth and nose. The gray ash was already stinging her lungs and she didn't want it to get any worse. Then she took the goggles that had been resting on her forehead, pulled them down over her eyes, and set off into the gunmetal light.


End file.
